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Jailbird - A Vercetti story - Chapter 3 Words - 656
#1
Ever since stepping in Tokyo, Squall had to admit one thing - it was far less weird than he expected it to be. Granted, all his knowledge about the place came from mumblings from an erratic pair of teenagers that were apparently moving there to study at a Japanese private university, so from what he could gather, the entirety of Japan was an island full of weird people with absurd powers that failed to belong in realms that were comprehended by Western minds.

He could only laugh now that he was used enough to the area of the city he was living in. Ueno was a pretty comprehensible, peaceful section of the city that had, if anything, enough green space to kick around or kick about. To his credit, he quickly befriended the homeless people from the park - while he himself wasn't very good with Japanese yet, one of the homeless was a blind man that spoke English, well enough that the two could chat enough about things. Every day, he'd show up at Ueno with a newspaper and some food for his new friends. He wasn't exactly sure why he felt compelled to do so but he was still feeling fine about it.

One such day, after their second loss on the season, Squall once again found himself sitting on a bench. A familiar sound of a metallic stick hitting the floor made him smile.

Squall: How's it going, Narazaki?

The old man appeared not too far away from him, sitting by his side. Squall chuckled, taking out a loaf and placing it on the old man's lap.

Narazaki: Ah, got them fresh from the bakery, didn't ya, Squall?
Squall: Of course. What kind of friend gives another one mouldy bread?
Narazaki: I did, heh.
Squall: Eh, that pigeon didn't die from eating that yet, did it?
Narazaki: Suppose not. I still hear the flock every now and then. How was it? That game of yours?
Squall: Another miss. We lost.
Narazaki: Awful to hear it.
Squall: Eh, trust me. I've been through worse. 'Sides, the sport's a fickle thing, ain't it?
Narazaki: In this world? You should be careful to not get axed.
Squall: Heh. Maybe I could ask some of your folks for some ninja tricks if that ever happens.
Narazaki: Bah. Ninja.

He took a bite out of the loaf of bread. Even for a homeless man, he was well kept. Either that or he was well-treated by another anonymous source. Surprisingly, the homeless in Japan weren't entirely off to their own luck - there was still an easy enough way for them to wash and clean up and he did notice some of the more well-kept locals helping their poor brethren. Narazaki wasn't an exception, though the lack of family meant the old man was probably gonna die there one day. Squall sighed, 'at least, he'll be clean, lord knows that's impossible for them abroad', his mind thought.

Squall: Sounds to me like you're familiar with the concept.
Narazaki: Yes. You could say that.
Squall: Huh. You're a ninja?
Narazaki: Oh, no. I'm not. I just saw one once, decades ago... he killed my boss.
Squall: Ah... Damn, sorry.
Narazaki: Yes. He also blinded me in the commotion... which led to me being under the care of my wife... then my kids... and now, here.

Squall fell in silence but Narazaki still seemed in good spirits.

Narazaki: ...Which then means I wouldn't be enjoying this great piece of bread you brought me.
Squall: I... I guess so, heh.
Narazaki: But yes. You got to show more spirit.
Squall: You mean it?
Narazaki: Yes! Don't half-ass your one chance into riches, you damn foreigner.
Squall: Sheesh, calm down. I'll work harder, don't worry. I promise.
Narazaki: Good. Do you have more bread? I want to bring this along to the others.

Squall grinned, aware he wouldn't see the gesture.

Squall: Sure. You guys need it, the weather's gonna be colder tonight.

He placed the bag with seven loaves of bread on Narazaki's stretched-out hand before the blind man left.

Narazaki: Next time, speak of wins!
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